Magpie heart

My friend Amy recently had a book of hers published. (You all know Amy, don’t you? Amy – everyone. Everyone – Amy. There.) It’s not just any book either, but a book of poetry no less. It’s called ‘Out of True’ and you can – and should – pick up a copy here (for your bookshelf) and here (for your Kindle, iPad or smartphone).

It’s a marvelous book, wonderfully written and full of Amy-thoughts. Many of the poems reflect on love, but it’s not a squishy feel-good collection. Instead it’s full of wonder, pain, sorrow, joy and anger – just like life itself.

In one of her poems (‘The science of this’), Amy describes the brain as a chemical device and how this make us believe we’re attracted to someone or even in love by drugging us with endorphins, dopamine and the like:

“So listen: I don’t love you. My brain’s just telling me I do. And my heart’s still beating. On and on and on. There’s some poetry in that, somewhere. I’ll let you know when I find it.”

In another (‘Fever’) what it would feel like to spontaneously combust:

“They will find perhaps a foot, a finger, the curve of an ear. My clothes will still be plump with my shape. They will blame suicide, smoking. They will not think to blame you.”

In yet another (‘One honest man’), she encounters Diogenes:

“If you see him, let him know his fucking lantern isn’t doing me any good. It burned holes in my good sheets, and I want my Maglite back. I have a search to continue.”

Like this:

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This week is making me RANDOMLY WEEPY in RANDOM PLACES. Thank you for this! I love it so much!

You know, I loved the line “magpie heart” so much it was what I wanted to name the collection, until I did a Google search and realized that other people had the same bright idea for other things, like songs and albums and such, so it was off the table. Little known fun book-facts!

I love my magpie heart! I know what all the things in it are. It’s wonderful! Thank you thank you! You are one of my favorite people in the whole world!

It is perfect. I love heart imagery (I actually have an anatomically correct heart hanging in my house I made by tearing up a poem I’d written and pasting it back together in the shape of a heart, so it’s a heart made of words, and I love it.) VIsceral is perfect. If art doesn’t punch you in the gut, it isn’t doing its job.